


Scary.

by jessng



Category: Lord of the Flies - William Golding
Genre: Emotional Baggage, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Bully, Pre-Canon, Self-Esteem Issues, rogermon, rogermon shipped if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-29
Updated: 2016-04-29
Packaged: 2018-06-05 06:01:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6692446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jessng/pseuds/jessng
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You've got it all, you lost your mind in the sound. There's so much more, you can reclaim your crown." - King, Lauren Aquilina.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scary.

Simon was never the most interesting boy in the Boy Choir group. He was small and skinny, and smiled a lot. He had the typical brown hair that would be trimmed neatly every time it grew too long. He had a nice tanned skin for being under the sun so much, with green eyes that sparkled under the sun or any kind of light. During Choir lessons, he was the geek who never paid attention to the songs, but was always looking out of the window, looking for a bird's nest he thought he saw the other day, or the special leaf that shaped like a tooth. He excelled at Arts, too, since he spent so much time looking at objects. And he was always fainting, during class, at break, at lunch, during Choir lessons, he would faint anytime of the day. There were some days when he did not pass out, but those days were not much, and kept decreasing as time passed.

Roger was a different kind of unsocial. He talked to absolutely no one, and only opened his mouth if it was really necessary, like during Choir. He could also reach C sharp, like Jack Merridew, they were the only boys in the group to ever reach that note, but he was not head boy, because he did not want to. Apart from singing, he was not particularly good at anything, especially Arts. He could beat anyone up, in school, of course, one way or another, no matter how big they are. His face was blank, almost without emotions. His hair was a pure black color, and his skin was contrast to it, porcelain white. He looked like he had never been under the sun, and it was actually true that no one had ever seen him go outside, or at least out of a shade. His eyes were also black, but they never sparkled, but almost opaque. Others suspected that he was blind, since he never seemed to notice anything, but he never bumped into anything, so they discarded the idea. The little children thought his eyes were "scary". They thought about it and had been saying it so much that the impression got to the older boys. Roger did not care much, he never did. Everyone in the school called him "Scary Eyes". Everyone, except one.

Simon.

The boy always seemed to be looking at Roger. Not the cautious look like other kids, but a stare. He would then turn back to his sketchbook, and sketched some lines, then stared at Roger again. He would never show anyone what he drew whenever he was working on that drawing of Roger, but he would gladly show other drawings.

Roger, despite his apathy to everything, was also interested in Simon. The boy seemed to be the only one he noticed out of the whole school. He did not notice Simon the way the boy did to him. He did not stare at Simon. But if anyone dared to cross the imaginary circle that he drew around Simon, misshapen and was not really a circle, he would lift his head and stare at them with his so called "intimidating eyes" until they walked away, assuring that no one could hurt, or even touch the boy. It was almost like Simon belonged to him only.

But they never talked to each other. Roger had never came up to Simon and actively talk, since he knew, or at least got a hunch that the boy would be scared off by his eyes, his "demonic eyes". Simon had never talked to Roger, either, probably since there was an imaginary "dark aura" surrounding Roger that made everyone hesitate to talk to him.

Life went on, and the two barely crossed roads.

That was until one day.

It was break time. The classroom was empty, for everyone had gone out to the yard and played. Simon closed his sketchbook, held it to his chest, and walked straight to Roger. He hesitated a little, but then kept on walking.

Roger slowly lifted his head as he heard the sound of footsteps, and to his surprise, Simon was walking towards him. He sat up, his seemingly opaque eyes dilated, and his heart beat faster the closer the other boy was. He had never felt that way before. It was a new feeling. Not necessarily terrible, but new.

"Hi." Simon decided to break the ice, but Roger immediately buried his head in his arms crossed on the desk. He did not want Simon to see his scary eyes.

"Didn't my eyes scare you off?" He said, his voice was raspy, for he rarely used them, only during Choir. He intentionally made himself sound rude so that the other boy would leave, though he also wanted to talk to him. Badly. For no reason at all.

He just wanted to talk to Simon.

For the first time in his life, Roger wanted to talk to someone.

"No."

"Are my eyes scary?"

"No."

There was a slight hesitation before the next question.

"Am I scary?"

"No."

"You're lying." Roger's voice went raspier, and at the same time, louder.

"I'm not."

"Everyone says I'm scary, and my eyes are scary, and everything about me is scary."

"Not me. I think you're nice. You're just lonely, and everyone just assumes that you're scary because that's what they hear about you."

"How do you even know? You've never talked to me." Roger's voice became softer. He realized that for some reason, no matter how hard he tried, he could not be mad at Simon, at least for long, despite having only talked to him for the first time.

"Because I watch you a lot, and I've seen your eyes. They're dark, and dull, and lonely, and sad. People with sad eyes often think of themselves as bad people, but in reality, they're not. They're just scared. They just think that way, because.. because.." Simon, for a moment, was at a loss to know what to say. He lost his train of thoughts, and he could not remember what he intended to say from the beginning. But then, he opened his mouth again, "because.. there is a monster inside of them who tells them they're worthless, they're scary, they're bad, they'll harm people, and that stuff. And that's why I know you're not a bad person, and you're not scary."

Roger felt a weird sensation hitting him. His vision blurred out, and his cheeks were hot. He could not say anything, and from the corner of his eyes, tears were forming. He lifted his head from his arms, and looked at the boy in front of him, though he did not want him to see his eyes. Roger's lips shivered, and he bit them, hard. He buried his face in his hands, and the hot, salty water fell down from his eyes, running on the palm on his hands, and ended their journeys on his desk. His shoulders were shaking, and the more he tried to speak, the more mispronounced his words were.

But then, he felt someone's arm wrapping around his head, and the warmth from the person's body was against the cold in his heart, and that someone just kept holding him as if time had stopped, and there were just the two of them. Simon rested his chin lightly on Roger's hair, his nose was filled with the odd, yet not terrible scent of the coal-colored hair.

"I'm fine, really." Roger finally spoke.

"No, you're not. If you were, you wouldn't be crying."

Roger was silent, and in that moment of silence, a second seemed like a whole decade.

"I.. wanted to say.. that you're wrong, that I am scary, but why are you right? Why can I not deny that I'm lonely? Why can I not say that I'm scary? Why am I scared?" He paused for a moment to catch his breath. The tears had not yet dried up on his face "Why can't I just say that I'm fine then put on a blank face and neglect the world anymore? Why am I feeling these weird things? I'm scared. I'm afraid that everyone is afraid of me. I don't like it being lonely. _Help me_." His voice was shaking and the words were barely audible, but Simon heard them all, he held Roger tighter, and smiled, the faint smile that had never left his lips.

"You're not alone anymore. You have me now, and I'm not afraid of you."

Roger bit his lips again, trying to hold in the disobedient tears.

"For real?"

The sketchbook had fallen to the floor a while ago. The opened page showed the drawing of a boy with coal-black hair looking out a window. He was isolated from the world behind him. His eyes were black, dull, lonely, and sad. They did not even seem to reflect the sunlight coming in from the window. He looked like a silhouette, a dark figure contrasting the bright sun. But on the boy's lips, barely noticeable to anyone, was a smile.

" _For real._ "


End file.
